It's About Time That I Came Clean With You
by Stoic Harlequin
Summary: Donatello's scientific mind is challenged by those things curious to him, which don't always come in the means of inanimate objects. SS challenge response - Don/OC
1. I'm Just Scared I Might Never Say

**::Author's Note::**

Here we have a front loading author's note, a rarity indeed. This is a response, issued by Mutant Rebel, to a challenge on Stealthy Stories that is listed as follows:

_So my challenge to you is to write a TMNTxOC story where the OC isn't someone that you'd really expect to see. There are OCs of all shapes, looks, and sizes ready to be born; you just have to create them. _

We don't often write romance stories - exclusively. This is truly going to be a challenge for us; but we will give it our best. We would really appreciate any comments you may have. Thank you stopping by; we'd love to hear what you think.

- Stoic and Harley

* * *

><p><strong>It's About Time that I Came Clean with You<br>**Prologue:  
><span>I'm Just Scared I Might Never Say Goodbye<span>

They all have expectations. Of me, of each other, of sensei - of life. Of course it would be a lie to say I don't have similar expectations. Many of them are unfair and I know it. It doesn't stop me from having them no matter how much I try and fight them, rationalize them or even dismiss them. I know Mikey - I also _know_that he isn't what he seems to most; yet I still expect him to have the highest video games scores of all of us. Which is ironic since Raph, with all his raging-controller-destroying-button-mashing, tops Mike on at least half the Jenga-style-could-fall-at-any-moment pile of games sitting on the edge of the TV stand. He's not really as hot headed as everyone says, though of them all he's the one I understand the least. I care about him, he is my brother after all, but I just don't get him. We have the least in common. I accept it and have learned to live with it, he does the same. Leo on the other hand, with all his Zen-introverted-spirit-seeking is not really far off from Raph's high powered approach to life. It's just that they handle the same emotion differently. I understand Mike the best.

Yet still, I'm the least likely of them to be expected to be in this predicament. At least on the surface, I would appear to be the least likely. But life is what makes things happen as they do, not our reasoning - no matter how hard I want to _insist_ that's the case. And I **_do_** insist. I fight the natural order in lieu of deductive reasoning and a good hypothesis that can be proved; but only because I like the _proving_. Science is cool. It makes sense to me. But people always assume I like it for the reasons I don't. I like it because the answer, the end, is consistent. I can expect it. Plus, I like to tinker. Machines don't whine as much as people - well when they're working right they don't. They understand me.

I don't get her. She goes against everything that should be my consistent mind's desire. Yet I return because I have a fondness for her. Something else I can't explain that half annoys me and half keeps me coming back. It's the same way I can't explain why I really like playing Mortal Combat with Raph. I go in knowing it will be punishment and he'll kick my shell half way to the Jersey turnpike, but I have a fondness for it even still. She doesn't give me that sense of internal lack of control, the way I'd really like to smash my bo staff in his face sometimes. But, at the end of the day, I guess I understand in some ways because - she makes me _feel_. Which is what Raph does in those moments too. I forget sometimes, to feel. I mean, I always do, feel that is. Yet sometimes, I get caught up in other tasks and mostly they consume me. I have a knack for pushing my spirit, as Leo calls it, back so I can focus on the logic. But it's nice, on occasion, to feel. It's even better when it happens by accident.

I'll never forget the day I met her. Well...the day itself was pretty forgettable. In fact, I can't even remember how I ended up on that fire escape. I know it had to do with a troop of Foot soldiers. That's nothing out of the ordinary. I knew I shouldn't - I _knew _it. But I figured I'd only slip inside for a second, until they passed. I heard her first, despite her soft steps, and was surprised I hadn't detected her sooner. I was agile, or I liked to think so. Mikey, though good at what he does when he tries, is the clumsy one on instinct. But I tripped a little right then, mostly on my words.

"I...um...it's not what it looks like." I said, taking an automatic step back toward the safety of the window. Part of me was terrified of jumping out and abandoning the awkward situation, while the other part of me wanted nothing more than to escape the same awkwardness. The smile that flicked across her face in the dark light was partially terrifying and I wondered what in the world she was smiling for, furthermore I was baffled by the idea that she hadn't screamed yet - either for my appearance or for the simple fact that, under normal circumstances - in this neighborhood - I was more likely to be a crook. Later, I learned that her apartment had been broken into half a dozen times in the last three months so she insisted that she would have known if I was there to defile her life and her livelihood. Furthermore, Tuesday, her overprotective German Sheppard, didn't bark at me.

"Really?" She asked, the intonation in her question was somewhere between amused and scathing.

"Um...yes...it's definitively not what it looks like." I confirmed, still slithering back to the window; but I tripped again, this time on the mat in front of the tub. Curiosity was the only thing that kept me from bolting.

"Excellent. Since it always looks sort of dark and blurry to me." I should have noticed the guide stick right away, and I suddenly felt dumb for missing it. For being so smart, or so they all said - I felt utterly retarded right then, not to mention relieved. She was very obviously blind. I must have scared the piss out of her, but not due to the normal reasons for anyone who ran into me. Ellie, her name, said she grew up in Atlanta - the bad part, that was why New York didn't scare her; or so she claimed. She explained this to me over three cups of coffee while I marveled, scientifically, how she got around with the absent of one so imperative sense. She also told me the only reason she didn't scream, since I asked, was because of Tuesday. Not only did he help her see, he helped her stay safe. I wasn't sure after that first day if she was a science project I just wanted to understand or if I actually enjoyed the non-familial company. It was nice - the safety - of being in her presence and not being judged for being who I am. I have to admit, I like the company.

That's why I'm here, again...to see her, though she can't see me. To talk to her and let her talk to me.


	2. I Lied My Face Off

**It's About Time that I Came Clean with You  
><strong>Chapter 1:  
><span>I Lied My Face Off<span>

"Three brothers. You parents must have had their hands full." She mused as she poured me another cup of coffee. Black, steaming in the cup as swirls of water vapor rose upwards. I was staring at it, waiting to stop her when she got too close to the rim. That was why I didn't answer her right away; I was focused on the impending doom of it spilling over. When she stopped a half an inch from the top and extended it to me, by lifting the saucer, I smiled and refrained from saying 'marvelous'. It still amazed me how she managed so easily. I was sure, half the time, that she could see and she was just faking. Of course, that was entirely illogical. I'm allowed to have my moments, I figure. At least I recognized that they were illogical, that's why I find it acceptable.

"What? Oh, right. Just my father. I only have my father." She thought I was human still, I could tell by the way her eyebrows pinched together (and there's that little detail of me never having told her anything different). It was an expression of pity - I have no mother, therefore she was sorry for me. She didn't say it though. I forget half the time that it's customary to have a mother and a father. I also forget that I'm a mutant turtle sometimes, but that's a side effect of culture. We're inundated with stimuli from the media and when I'm working I'm not focused on what I am, therefore it slips my mind. At least, until a whiff of the sewer hits my nose. It's impossible to get used to the odor, but I don't complain. The others do, except Leo (but I've seen him make faces, though sometimes I think that's just Mikey's digestion which Leo mistakes for sewer rot) and of course sensei. In those moments, I'm aptly aware of what I am and where I am. I envied her for her apartment, though she kept it dim most of the time. Somehow that was a comfort for me too, also irrationally so, as if it better hid my shell and...greenness.

Like she could see it anyway.

"We, rather. We only have our father."

"You live with your brothers still? And your father?"

I had never felt what I felt right then - defensive. My pride was bruised even though her tone was merely curious. She might as well have curled her lip and dashed her coffee in my lap for how I reacted. I felt like I shouldn't be with them. Like I should have an apartment, a job and a slew of aspirations of normalcy that were _actually _achievable. Somehow running along the rooftops and fighting in back alleys didn't seem like the answer she sought. Or maybe it was - because she wanted the truth, but I was temporarily ashamed that my answer wasn't: 'Well, I am a college professor after all, my brothers live with _me_ and we take care of our aging father _together _as he's not as young as he used to be' and pompously add, 'you know it's Doctor Donatello. I focused my undergrad on molecular chemistry and my graduate studies in quantum physics. I _am _working in a research facility in an attempt to modify space travel and prove that light speed is attainable by humanity'. I had no idea why I wanted to show off, but 'night-time vigilante', as it's really what we are, seemed like something Raph would be more prideful to claim. I just wanted her to be impressed with me, but I have no reason for it. It's not like she can tell her friends - or she could but it would all be a lie and I'd still be _just_ Don no matter how many lies I spew at her. And the horror of them wanting to meet her college-professor-space-travel-researching big shot friend weighed me down. I knew I could never meet her friends, if she even had friends. OF COURSE SHE HAS FRIENDS! She's **_not _**a mutant turtle, Donnie! I sometimes have to remind myself - _culture _and _media _and _stimuli _and **all **that. Illogical.

"Yeah." I lamely answered.

She heard the disappointment in my voice because she set her cup aside and straightened in her spot. "You're disenchanted with this arrangement. Unsatisfied." Her voice peaked in curiosity, I sank in my spot as a result.

"No."

"You think **I **am?" She asked, though she knew the answer - I had entirely given myself away. I was flustered with how easily she seemed to pick up on my inflection. Of course that irritated me further as I knew she would hear my tone and immediately decipher it. I had come to her house three times, including the first blundering abortion of an attempted unnoticed escape plan. I had lied about that too, and she caught on to it, but she didn't press the issue. How does one tell someone that they're a mutant turtle and fighting a bunch of ninjas on the roof without sounded like a mental case? Especially to a blind woman. I figured a lie would be more suitable. I'm not much of a liar though and as I started to weave the tail and she got more suspicious, I dove deeper into my story, it just got worse and I gave up. "Can we just accept that it was an error on my part and I'm entirely grateful that you let me use your bathroom to let it pass?" I know I'd huffed it out in the irritation I felt (yes, I do get agitated by things other than machines, contrary to popular belief - maybe you should consider what the media is poisoning your brain with too) but that was when she smiled and her hands came off her hips. It was also when she asked if I wanted to stay for coffee, rather than kicking out this new comer. "Now that's a more honest answer and one I can buy - how do you take your coffee?" Okay, so she didn't really give me the choice but I would have left if I wanted to. Now, after that first day, I know she can read _me _like a book; and I think she's the only book I _can't _read.

"Oh the contrary, I'm sort of jealous. I wish I could live with my family. I miss them." She said and I felt my throat close up a little. I didn't like thinking about the day I had to live without mine. Somehow she managed to bring me from affronted about my living arrangements to reduced to a speechless tub of emotional worry in the span of thirty seconds - and all regarding those other Hamatos. That's why I came back, I knew it - she made me feel and gave me perspective I didn't see on my own. But I hate that it hurts sometimes. Even so I liked to listen to her mundane stories and things about her life. It's like I get to touch humanity and topside life for a little bit when I listen to her; I get a normal life. And I get it safely, no impending doom - no Shredder - no weird conversation about how awkward it is to sit with a shell and the way it cuts off the circulation in my thighs if I don't move after a little bit...yeah none of that. Sure we have April, I have April, but I don't see April as any more than an extension of my own projects - or as my family. Ellie, she was a stranger who took a liking to me, just because. April stayed, maybe Ellie would keep me too if I could have an apartment and banal aspirations and an associate professorship at Columbia. Illogical again. Besides, April is far from normal. She accepts us for what we are. Ellie knew no different and it felt good for a change.

"Not to be stereotypic but my mother makes the best fried chicken on the planet. My sister sings blues like no one else, of course I think she hung the moon and a few stars too so she might not really be preferable to those more cultured ears. I miss the Sunday barbecues and even my closet that passed for a bedroom. You should cherish them Don, while you have them in your life."

I do, she just doesn't know how much and why. I don't have anyone else, not really. People come and go on occasion but my family are constants for me and that's enough. In fact I know I have higher expectations because of them. We might fight but they've _never _really let me down. Ever. They never will.

"Then why did you leave?" So I'm not great at conversation, I like it better when she talks. What I both love and despise about people is that they are unpredictable. I'm drawn to it but then I'm repulsed by the lack of simple steps and routine. I want to be accepted, I crave it. Usually I just forget that and drown myself in some experimental theory because at least I can predict and understand the outcome. Emotions are completely irrational and annoyingly disappointing for their fickle nature. I often find myself hurt by other people's behaviors - that's why I hate them. At least science never lets me down, unless I mess up the equation. And Tuesday, a living life form rather than a computer, is loyal and loving - he does everything she says _and _he's happy to do it. It would be nice if everyone had that sort of simplicity. The dog I get...its the owner that baffles me.

"Life." She said whimsically. See, that's exactly what I mean. What the hell am I supposed to take away from that? Life is an infinite number of things therefore her answer is exactly that many, only raised to an exponential power of _ten-bajillion_ because she has millions of life experiences that factor in that could make that initial infinite number bigger! As if infinity could get bigger, I snort. Of course, I believed her and therefore believed that infinity could be bigger than...well...infinity. She makes me irrational, even more illogical than normal. This is where things get weird, because I can't accept this measure of lacking in reason - as I didn't anticipate it like I normally do when I'm being retarded and critical. But I still love it. Maybe I'm an oxymoronic masochistic hypocrite; being completely compelled by opposites, one of which makes me mentally pained and happy at the same time. I wanted to hear more of this brazenly random answer - life. I was enamored, as well, with her pretty skin, the same color of my coffee with only one cream and sort of crazy hair, as if some child scribbled it on in little crinkly orangeish-brown lines in a halo around her head. I like kids, moldable minds - having one is as infinitely impossible as her answer. Life. I still like to dream.

Maybe I should just get a dog. I'll name it Wednesday.


	3. Soon Ends Our Stay Here

**It's About Time that I Came Clean with You  
><strong>Chapter 2:  
><span>Soon Ends Our Stay Here<span>

I was thinking about her. I only realized it when that song - that horribly popular one with the southern geographic traditionally and normally reserved in a horrible cliché that goes with that group (I know I'm not right in saying so) came on some radio station as Mikey was flipping through. He's sort of like a spastic Grandfather clock with how it can be anticipated that he'll flick, like that tic-tock arm back and forth, through the stations, sometimes only signing a few words - badly I might add - of his favorite songs before getting bored and moving on. I normally never bother with trying to wrangle him or that stupid radio I found in the western sewer duct and had no trouble bringing back to life. But this time it was automatic.

"Hang on - go back." I protested before I realized I'd said it and, naturally, hadn't considered Raph's reaction. I didn't yield when he roared with laughter. I didn't tell them about Ellie, she was my own personal secret. minds are funny things though, and the way we connect randomly abstract topics - or maybe unrelated ones is a mystery. It intrigues me. This one, I know though - I understand why I thought of her. It's blatantly obvious. She said she loves fried chicken, like a stereotype, and her family. I remember her saying that very clearly and the fact that the song is called 'Chicken Fried' was no mistake.

"You're joking right?" Mikey's eyes bugged out and I was on my feet in a second. That was when I realized she had besieged war on me, without even meaning to. The thought of her infiltrated my regular life and occupied a space in my mind, which was bleeding out to my other thoughts - such as, would Ellie like that shirt, what would Ellie think of this pizza, I wonder what she's doing...and it was getting worse. I didn't even know she was my enemy until a few days before when I'd smacked my thumb with a hammer because I was considering if she'd mind me stopping by. Now this? What was I supposed to say. Raph was still laughing. Under regular circumstances Raph's aggressive and tactless behavior goes unnoticed by me, invisible. This time, however, it's personal. It didn't help that Mikey thought it was a riot too and started to sing before he even got back to the station.

Logically - she probably doesn't even like the stupid song...if she'd even heard it. Illogically I was offended on her behalf.

"You don't strike me as the pair of jeans that fit just right - or know a mother's love sort Don. And you ain't the type to get sentimental over BS over played main stream pop garbage. It ain't the sort of music that speaks machine." Raph taunted when he'd finally gotten himself to stop laughing. I didn't find him humorous at all, and where I would regularly back down - and retreat in embarrassment, I felt the need to defend Ellie...even though the primary source wasn't even related to her. It wasn't her fault, it wasn't the song's fault...it wasn't even Raph's fault. It was mine for letting it get to me and actually eating it. It's irregular for me to rise to their shenanigans but I actually did this time and it was kind of rewarding.

I mean, I figure, Raph and I are related. I could, when prompted, get some of his potty-mouth wielding capabilities if I'd just let my inhibitions go. Alas, I resorted to my old familiar - calling him out in words he probably didn't know the meaning of. Between my array of synonymic word vomit in something to the tune of idiot and Mikey's shock, having realized I actually wanted him to turn it back for a reason other than scientific, Leo ambled by. It wasn't any of his business. Where I'm normally not one to instigate and I'm more the one to embrace Leo's lessons, I wasn't so eager to have him badger us. Suddenly Raph and I were blended into one horrific creature in my mind, because I understood him in a way I hadn't before, as I felt my temperature spike and I felt like I'd been crucified by Leo's simple 'What are you guys yelling about?' comment. It sounded, in my foggy headed rage-filled haze, like '**_Don_** what are you yelling about?'

I was threatened, and that was partially because I was hiding something. First the fact that I had a friend outside of the lair that I _wanted _to keep to myself. Second my guilt for doing so and my own idiotic behavior that I was trying to over compensate for. Furthermore I was never under Leo's impenetrable gaze that could see through any lie and the anal retentive attention to our behavior which allowed him to spot trouble, normally I envied him for that - his charisma and leadership skills...his people skills, today it made me want to tell him to mind his own business and stop looking at me for liking a song! A song I didn't even LIKE! Well, maybe a little - now that I think about it; but only because it, without real reason, reminded me of Ellie in that fraction of a second.

As any responsible, experienced and knowledgeable scientist I passed off my accountability for this particular argument. I don't normally utilize this tactic as I'm in for correcting my errors but this seemed more fitting than throwing myself on the ground, beating my fists and demanding that everyone leave me alone like a five-year-old spoiled child. I've never done it and I don't intend to start now, though I considered it (for all I know it could have been effective). "Raph's sense of control is out of hand, as usual, and his behaviors are more deficient than usual today! I'm finding it difficult to tolerate him." It was totally unfair and I didn't usually resort to it, but Leo bought it because, well - it was me saying it. Raph's protesting fell on deaf ears. The second Leo turned on Raph, who immediately shot to his own defense, I slipped away. Later I'm sure Leo will figure it out - that it was actually my fault the fight started, but I was willing to deal with that later.

My plague, my disease, my war (the one I was losing as she took over more of my thoughts even then), was beckoning me. I knew I shouldn't go and I also knew I should just never go again - but it's like with anything else that peaks my curiosity, I dismiss reasons and sense to venture to that which I crave understanding of.

If I'm nothing else, I'm cautious and that was why I scouted around her apartment to make sure she was alone. Tuesday knew I was there, but he didn't acknowledge me until I knocked. Call me a what you will but there's something rewarding about knocking; the ritual of greeting and the small talk exchanged before one is invited in. It's the small things and I think that's it, this is like one big game to me - as if I'm being invited to tea and then suddenly it's a masquerade I'm safe at; one I can peek out from behind to get a better glimpse at realty.

He barked once and the door opened. "I heard a song that made me think of you!" I blurted out before I could stop myself, just like when I heard the stupid thing. I rarely feel dumb - but I did right then.

"Donnie hello." The smile that lit up her brown face, at her recognizing my voice, made my heart flutter and my stomach turn. It's the most ridiculous sensation to feel that level of joy to see someone happy to see me. But at the same time I'm a slave to it, I crave it. I love it! I want more of those tingles to pass my skin. I have to remind myself, its not _her_ but the fact that _anyone_ is eager to **see** me. _See _- being relative. It's not her...no, never about her. Don't get attached Donnie, it's like the age old trap and one you know the ending to.

I wonder if Johnny felt like this every time he saw Baby...yes I just referenced Dirty Dancing. Hey, I can indulge. Raph's favorite movie is Pretty Woman, I have caught him watching it at 2 AM when he thinks the rest of us are asleep and TLC is running a marathon. I'm the only one up at the hours he keeps, and only sometimes - when something has consumed me in the lab, and I've seen him. Anyway everyone knows, or maybe it's just me, that it was bound to end in tragedy. Johnny had to be an idiot if he thought he'd ever see Baby after those three weeks. What a gloriously horrible movie. Somehow I don't think I'm much of a dancer, I can't even pretend - I don't have Mikey's imagination, and it would be a catastrophe to try and do that over the head thing with a blind woman...conspicuously empty lake or not. I sized her up then, it was absurd and I was forced to realize I have more of an imagination for the hopeless romantic futility than I let on, and decided that I could handily hold her up - maybe even with one hand, she was sort of tiny. **Stop it **Don, you're being ridiculous!

It was only then that I understood the expression on her face, in my random mental tangent I didn't return her greeting and she was left thinking I vanished or was just finding words to say something unpleasant like...I never want to see you again (the thought of saying those words makes me want to throw up or pass out; I can't tell which, but it indicates to me that I would _never_ say them). "Hey Ellie." I tried to sound casual, but she - like always - heard the optimism and hidden glee in my voice. Her face lit up again. My heart is doomed. Love is stupid. It's irrational and without reason or order. It makes absolutely no sense. Even so I have always believed in it. It's dumb that I've always been so drawn to the idea of it. Maybe I like the idea of something the defies sense and yet still works. I **_don't _**love Ellie. She's an experiment. Yes, she will always be an experiment. I hardly know her, it wouldn't make sense for me to care about her romantically, never mind the logistical aspect; that is a terrible and curious path I can't even let myself look at, let alone venture.

I shouldn't be here.

"Come in! I was wondering where you've been. Two days is far too long Don, I'm getting used to your company. I'd be real disappointed if you disappeared."

I **_really _**shouldn't be here.

I wish she were stupid. That would help me be repulsed by her, not that I don't like people who lack in intelligence. Repulsed isn't the right word, impatient with perhaps. I have trouble tolerating them for long periods of time and would be much more eager to find a polite way to escape. However, with Ellie, I have been caught up until the wee hours of the morning pretending like I don't know what time it is. I totally knew it was 4 AM and I thanked whatever greater being there was, if there was one, that Leo was probably sleeping before I even got to Ellie's. I really don't want to take Raph's place among my brothers. Sometimes I think that is one of those cases where Leo might be a tiny bit miffed with me. My own pleasure outweighs my care for what backlash and scolding I _might _receive.

I resisted, with all my effort. Epic fail Don - I held out for 2.4 seconds, down point 4 seconds from last time before I stepped over the threshold into her abode. Damn you Ellie for having a charming voice and southern hospitality - don't you know I'm a New Yorker, albeit a soft one, but your sweet generosity in accommodation is impossible to dismiss. Next time it will be 2 seconds - I know it. At this rate, I'm statistically predictable.

"I was just making hot cocoa with those little marshmallows. You know the kind they dry up and put in Lucky Charms. Do you want some?" I smiled, even though she couldn't tell I was smiling. I figured she could sense it on the air if she sniffed or something. Maybe she's as keen as Tuesday. Some scientists say, or so I've read, that horses can smell fear. Maybe blind people can smell smiles. Here we go again, she **breaks** my mind - that was a blatant stupid series of thoughts. But I love them as much as I love the way that I, knowing she's from Georgia, can hear a tiny twang in her words sometimes.

"Wait - it's July...you're making hot chocolate?" I was baffled when it dawned on me.

"Er - no. I'm making cocoa Donnie. There's a difference, though I'm not sure I know what it is. And who says we need a month or day or hell a year that's defined by when cocoa can be had?" She's got a point, one of those random tangent ones I forget. "You drink coffee still - is it the chocolaty part that keeps you from being able to indulge any time that isn't able to produce snow?"

Why is everyone on my case today? "No."

"Aw Don don't sound so down, I wasn't picking." Damn her again! At least she was sensitive enough to notice. I'm a sucker, her concern made me weak and I felt it first in my knees. "I was just saying, you should have some with me." She reached for me - my arm - she seemed to know exactly where it was too. If my face had any warmth from blood, it would have gone icy. Instead I just feel clammy because I had to dive out of the way. It was our first awkward incident. Naturally I'm faster than her, because I wanted to be - so her hand hit empty air and she seemed to notice by the small 'oh' her mouth made.

I **really** _really _shouldn't be here.

"I _really _need to go."

She was still startled that she missed me, as if she knew I was there and then when I wasn't, her predictability meter was off and it alarmed her. I couldn't very well have her touch my reptilian skin. "What?" Her tone hurt my soul, the crushed expression on her face didn't help. I gulped and felt like a complete ass. Maybe I'm as insensitive as Raph - would Raph be pleased by the sheer disappointed look on her face? Maybe I should be, that would make this a whole lot easier. Be strong Don - you can redeem yourself by leaving in under the time it took you to step through the threshold. Now, however, my feet are rooted and refuse to answer my pleas to leave. "But you just got here. Don't go Don - please. Just one cup, I promise not to tell any of those boring old hat stories - I'll dig up some new ones and this time I might even get you talking about what it was like growing up with three brothers."

"Yeah! I'd love to stay." Damn it - even my voice speaks without my control. I might as well raise up the white flag and beg for negotiation like Lee at Appomattox.

Did I mention...I'm doomed?

* * *

><p><strong>::Author's Note::<strong>

Thank you for taking the time to read this. We really appreciate it. Please, if you have a moment, we would really love to hear what you think. This story is frightening for us and we would love to get some feedback on how we're doing. This is not our normal genre and therefore out of our comfort zone - being both first person, not action driven (and primarily romance focused); we are trying something new.

Thank you so much for reading. It is very much appreciated.


	4. No, I'm Not Giving Up

**It's About Time that I Came Clean with You  
><strong>Chapter 2:  
><span>No, I'm Not Giving Up<span>

Who knew that strategic surrender could be so fun? I wonder if General Lee had a cup of cocoa and a churro with General Grant. I doubt it, but I have conceded that cocoa – with the help of Ellie – is different than hot chocolate. We decided, as we figured it could be our own definition, that it was about the chocolate used. She used those little semi-sweet morsels and heavy cream. I watched her, in marveled speechless awe, as I often do with her, as she used the stove and cooked. She had cues and set a timer to know when the burner reached its maximum efficiency. She makes me laugh. I like that too.

Tomorrow it might be back to war - perhaps this is a temporary truce, only long enough for me to get my senses back and plan my defense. In fact I'm pretty sure tomorrow will be. Maybe she knows voodoo, not that I believe in that, but just maybe she does - to keep me from letting my guard up. Whatever magic she has it works and I enjoy her control.

"I don't suppose a city boy like you knows what it's like to cut grass, huh? Hell I bet you've never even smelled fresh cut grass." She taunted me and I bit. I felt myself puff up in defense but it was a playful one as she hardly meant harm by it. The only harm that would come from it was my heart hammering against my chest so hard because of caffeine from the coffee and me trying to make myself bigger than I was in my shell, as if that would prove my worth even if I never had mown a lawn.

"Well..." I paused. Come on Don! Something...say _something_. "I have," there was another pause as I fought for words. I was drowning and we were talking about land matter. Only I would drown on land, in front of her...now. Then they tumbled out of my mouth ahead of my brain, "...seen grass."

"Oh honey," she laughed and I felt myself deflate. Her exuberance and smile kill me, particularly when they're genuine. "Don't go all out on a limb with all that grass you've seen. Don, it's not about seeing it - it's about experiencing it." I felt stupid, even though I know she didn't mean it half as bad as I took it. In fact I felt even more like a moron because I know Ellie - and I know she **experiences **things. She hasn't seen grass so my explanation sounds even more retarded. I might as well peg myself to the cross and hope martyrdom doesn't hurt because if I open my mouth I know I'll screw up and degrade her deficiency.

She's told me time and time again that she's comfortable talking about it but for some reason **I'm **not comfortable talking about it. It's like I have the biggest skin disorder on the planet what with it being green and the whole shell business yet I feel more normal than her sometimes because I have an advantage she doesn't. It's yet one more completely dumb facet of this thing that baffles my mind. I'm entirely bemused by how I can feel normal when I'm faced, literally, with a perfectly normal human woman.

"Don?"

UGH! I did it again, _that_silent thing where she thinks I either passed out or left and she somehow didn't hear me. I forget that there's no one to pick up the slack when I get caught up in my own mind. I count on Mikey for the distraction when I doze off into Don-land and have to be reeled back in by one of them.

"Don...?"

**AGAIN? **Already? "Yeah."

"Oh that won't do honey." She always calls me honey. Call me a romantic or a sucker, but it makes me warm in my cheeks and sometimes I even catch myself with a stupid smile on my face. Never mind that she can't see it. In fact, I consider that an advantage I have in this battle. She heard the tone in my response and she responded in kind. "Yeah that boring 'Don _yeah'_. I wasn't picking on you. All I'm saying is that you should experience it sometime. Reminds me of summers and lemonade. Don't you have something like that? You beat yourself up too much Don, honey. It's not fair and I aim to hear one day when you answer my use of your name with a vivacious 'Yes Ellie, sweetheart!'" She does love her pet names.

"Because I'm a 'sweetheart' sort." I found some courage, enough to taunt.

"Shoot honey, you're an everything sort - you just don't know it yet." There was more of her Georgia drawl in her words then as they spilled from her lips in excitement and her tactic worked - she thoroughly distracted me from my foul and subsequent feeling horrible for it. I even smiled.

"Has anyone ever told you that you sound like you're from the south?" It sounded goofy when it left my mouth.

"Everyday." She beamed and I couldn't help but let a moment of intrigue cross my face. She was rarely put off by anything, even the intruder that I'd been, and it confused and interested me. She had every reason to be skeptical of the world. She could be bitter and yet she wasn't. This science experiment is getting personal.

"How do you do it?" I blurted out and she tipped her head to the side. I figured I'd have to expand but she started to speak and I suddenly didn't care how much of my question she answered, so long as she kept talking. I like our conversations.

"With a little bit of lucky and a lot of heart. Friends and family. Hell Don, honey, ya just do it. Nike's got the right idea. And a dash no fear." She added on the end. "I figure if I'm going to have a life, I might as well live it. You should consider doing the same. And of course some fertilizer." My brow ridges came together in confusion and I stared. She did it again, that thing where she sensed what I was feeling. I _swear _she can smell it. "You _were _talking about cutting the lawn right?" Just as I was about to protest she smiled and I returned her expression with a laugh. She teased me again and I bit. I _always _bite. Damn her for being cute.

"Yeah El, that's what I was talking about."

"Oh honey you gotta try it. For me - just this once."

I was suddenly struck, like a deer in headlights. Somehow she can bridge the conversation without batting an eye but I'm left floundering when I try and keep up with the last thing she said. If I wait long enough she'll rescue me. As expected and on cue...

"Say it with me. _Sweetheart_..." She prodded me and I grinned.

"Oh no Miss Ellie, you're going to have to try harder than that to get me to yield." Success! I deflected her attack.

"Oh no, honey, that just means you have to come back so I can keep training you."

Score one for Ellie, Don - zero. How the hell does she do that?

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><p><strong>::Author's Note:<strong>:

School started for both of us. With that said, we apologize about the delay in this chapter. We do hope you enjoy it as much as we did writing it. We are trying to catch up on all of our stories and keep them rolling for those of you reading. As always thank you so much for doing so. We appreciate it very much and would love to hear what you think - if you think anything of this. Like other chapters this title is a bit of a cheat. It's from Dan Andriano's side project the _Emergency Room_. The song the lyric is borrowed from is called On Monday. ^_^


	5. No Alibi

**It's About Time that I Came Clean with You**  
>Chapter 4:<br>No Alibi

"Don, the toilet's broken again!"

Again...the toilet's broken. What entertains me most about this is how it takes no special skills to unclog a toilet, yet somehow I'm the one that gets tasked with it. To be honest Raph would probably be more suited for it with his brute force in everything. I considered the option of lopping the plunger onto his bald head, as he's the one that issued the complaint, to demonstrate how to utilize this particular tool. I might, in that case, suction his mask right off his face.

Though the thought was amusing, I don't much like the idea of the raging bull Raph turns into when he's..._pushed_. Pushed encompasses anything that could, maybe, possibly, temporarily or permanently inconvenience him or any way negatively impact him in the future - short term or long term. I once saw him punch a curb that he stubbed his toe on. I had to patch up the knuckles **and** the toe. I know I considered that we're more alike than it may appear on first blush, but other times I wonder if we're even from the same species - let alone family. Perhaps we're not from the same planet. Raph might have been dumped here by aliens. It's possible. Though if that were the case, I suspect Agent Bishop would be _more_ interested in exterminating us. Hell we do look something a like, therefore the agent _could_mistake us. He's blindly vengeful enough to make that stupid mistake.

"DON!"

"Huh?" Raph tapped me between the eyes.

"Up too late again, brainiac? Yer lookin' a little droopy around the eyes. And I think ya dozed off while I was tellin' ya...THE TOILET'S BROKEN!"

I have been more tired than usual lately. It's half because I'm distracted by how I can rig the lair in a way so that the rats, Master Splinter excluded, won't set off the security alarms and half because I spend many nights topside in the apartment of a woman that isn't April. Leo noticed how off I've been and he snagged my bo from me last training session and whacked me on the hand with it before I could even noticed I wasn't holding it anymore.

"18 inch sensors!" Raph's confusion made me grin as I tapped my chin in thought. "18 inches off the ground would certainly keep the critters at ground level from setting off the mortar disguised motion sensors and I already reinstalled pressure plates that require twenty pounds of pressure to set them off. Together it should cross -"

"Shove it Donnie. And while you're at it, fix the can."

I was left fumbling to catch the shaft of the plunger Raph chucked at me. Good thing I know my weapon like an extension of myself - yes, I have my own measure of arrogance. Leo's not the only one who knows he's good, I just don't show off like him. I spent a heck of a lot of time learning this, I better think I'm at least somewhat skilled. Anyway, my craft allowed me spin that sucker right in the middle without even the threat of having to get near that germy rubber cup. For living in a sewer, I have some weird standard for what's gross and what's not. _This_ - it's **gross**, I determined definitively, holding the handle of the plunger.

Damn it! I realize as I stare at the archaic tool in my hand that I promised Ellie I'd help her hang those pictures she dug out of one of the boxes from under her bed. She claimed she didn't have an eye for leveling them out, to which she laughed and I smiled. Beamed really - I beamed. She told me who was in each of the pictures, I could tell she knew by which frame she had in her hands. Are the pictures for her - or guests? For being blind, she certainly keeps a tidy house.

Did I mention I quit? What can I say - I don't care to battle with myself when she's not even in the war. I was fighting it alone so I decided to accept that my science project is now a full out case. A scientific case file. It evolved. It just means more research hours, more time with the subject, more interviewing, more understanding...

I walked passed Raph and tossed the plunger in his lap. "Fix it yourself. I'm going out." Okay, so I'm back to recognizing that we're sometimes similar. Or at least family. Or _maybe_I'm trying to prove a point my showing off - in a language he understands. I actually have somewhere to be and he has a date with a clogged bowl.

"Don! I was starting to think you weren't going to come." She opened the door before I even had the chance to knock. I glanced at the dog by her side and narrowed my eyes. He gave me away, I know it - for being a ninja, I can't get passed Tuesday half the time. That dog is like some telepathic precognition expert.

"Traitor." Clairvoyant and visionary Tuesday stares militantly at me when I whisper at him. For as much as I appreciate him being there with Ellie, I think he doesn't appreciate me at all. He's _always _skeptical of me and watches me with keen eyes from his regal and poised position. Maybe he knows I'm using his master for my curious mind. Is she his master? Would she approve of that verbiage? Aren't they supposed to be friends? She's already messing with my mind simply by proximity.

He thinks he's better than me - maybe he is, he gets to live in an apartment. I...live in a sewer. Screw you, Tuesday.

We stare at each other for a few minutes. I wish I could hate him, but I'm incapable of hating him. However, I'm certainly capable of envy. Irrational again, seriously - I should just leave; I **might **be ahead right now.

I caught her face from the corner of my eye. I'm not ahead, yet. I'm going to make ground tonight.

That thought, however, ended abruptly. I wasn't ready for it or I would have moved forward to close the door and busy myself. Her hand caught my wrist. I froze. PLEASE LET ME GO! My head begged for something my heart disagreed with. HOLD ON A MINUTE LONGER! It felt good to have the warmth of her mocha colored fingers burning life into my cold semi-reptile flesh. My breath palpitated and my eyes glued to her hand, waiting for her to say something about how weird it is that it's wrapped in protective fabric not to mention where her pinky finger is actually touching my skin it's more like an old scaly boot strap than flesh.

**_Oh God_**...I'm never going to get to see her again. The thought sends a shot of terror through me and I had the overwhelming urge to throw Tuesday out of the way and beg, from my hands and knees, for her not to kick me out. She knows! She must! Her touch is expert, like her hearing.

"You're strong, Donnie." She commented with a little sassy smile she has when she's harassing me playfully. "Stronger than you let on. You gonna come in and hang my pictures or am I going to have to let that supper I made for the both of us go to waste?"

_Relief_. Perhaps too soon.

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><p><strong>::Author's Note::<strong>

We apologize if this chapter seems...off. We hope you enjoyed it. We would really appreciate any feedback you might have.


	6. I've Got Nowhere to Run

**It's About Time that I Came Clean with You**  
>Chapter 5:<br>I've Got Nowhere to Run, No Place Left to Hide

DANGER! _DANGER_! **DANGER**!

My blood pressure shot through the roof and my hands started to shake and my breath caught in my throat. I'm useless right and in horrible danger! I have heard that children have been told to scream this when they feel threatened by an adult. My father never had to teach us this lesson explicitly because _everyone _was a danger to us. It's some sort of sick irony that **I'm **the one thinking this, I'm well over - okay not _well _over but over enough - the age that the US deems 'legal' and I'm thinking of screaming 'RAPE!' when I'm the one that's short, green and alien in shape. Not the way Raph might be an alien.

There is further sick irony in the fact that I could pummel this poor woman with one hand tied behind my back and blindfolded (no pun or joking intended) yet she terrifies me and I feel like...well, **I** could be hurt. My science experiment has gone terribly wrong as I realize my specimen - she never knew it was a test.

Was it still a test? Of course it was! Yes. It was a... "Stop."

So I'm not sure where 'stranger-danger', screamed from the top of my lungs, turned into the weakest plea I've ever whimpered. Yes, that's right..._whimpered_. There was no amount of strength in that singular word and even I knew it. Her face was inches from mine, where she was shooting for my cheek, after I placed the final picture on the wall and she brushed her finger along the bottom of the frame to ensure it was level, when I leaned back and pleaded for her to stop. It all happened so fast. Maybe she had a connection with the clairvoyant dog who **could **see me.

See how ridiculous I am under pressure? A TELEPATHIC DOG? Yes, I said it as if I believed it.

I could try screaming danger in her face.

I decided against it, particularly as she stopped when asked. But I couldn't beat the guilt out of my body for the disappointed look on her face. This is like a horror movie, forget Johnny and Baby - I stepped right in to the final scene in Gone With the Wind. Complete with Georgia accents and me being the one to say I don't give a damn.

But I do!

NO! She's a project...a test...a case study. Maybe its the other way around and I'm the case study. That's a depressing thought that I don't have time to linger on from her _still _disappointed expression. How would I handle that same face on Mikey? Well...Mikey wouldn't try to kiss me, so there's that. Maybe I can't compare her to anyone or anything I know as I've never been in this situation before. Wait...

SHE TRIED TO KISS ME!

I slapped my hand to my forehead with such force that I feel a headache coming on fiercely and instantly.

"Don?"

**GOD**! She thinks I'm gone again or maybe passed out on the floor from all the racket. What the heck am I supposed to do? Think Don...think fast. Faster would be good...faster? Something, think of _SOMETHING_! Nothing, I'm coming up with nothing. This is what defeat feels like.

"_Don_?"

AGAIN? I feel like I've been through this before. I'm sure we've done this same routine. Only this time I can't find my voice because I'm drawing a blank, but the theory of relativity and the quadratic equation are sticking out pretty firmly in my mind right now as things I **can **remember. Not to mention she sounds scared or concerned.

"**DON**?"

Her hand closed immediately around mine in worry. I could feel her skin's clammy nature and that was how I deduced that she was worried, presumably, about me. But that caused a whole new series of fears to shoot through me, particularly as I wasn't sprawled out on the floor as she probably figured. So Johnny had no advice for me because he just took Baby's kisses and even General Grant with his white flag doesn't offer any reprieve from my hammering heart and stark terror.

I have **GOT** to get out of here. _NOW_! I don't remember ripping my hand free from her grasp. I vaguely remember hearing Tuesday bark and I'm sure I heard Ellie's voice, but it was more like those Peanut characters' parents with a hint of a Southern twang on the waaah-wahh-wonnh. If I heard anything she said I might roll over and stay, like I always do. Maybe I'm winning now? I can't tell from the fear still coursing through me. Of course it took the cool night air hitting my lungs as my feet danced on the fire escape when I sprint to the safety of the roof that I realize, not only am I scared but, I'm hurt. My heart is beating so fast, not because of the fear, but because I'm in _pain_. Sadness? I didn't - I didn't expect sadness, not now and not coupled with the terror.

Danger indeed.

How did this happen? When did my hands get on my head? Am I sweating? What the shell is going on right now? I need answers! I think I'm pacing, I can't be sure. Wait, no, I'm definitely pacing and my hands are on my head again! AGAIN! Why can't I control my body right now? Am I in a panic? Yes, I think I am. Am I? How would I know? For sure - is there a test I can take? Preferably one on the fly because I'm pretty sure time is only going to make this worse. What the shell am I supposed to do right now?

I have no idea how much time passed before I could actually keep my hands at my sides and my feet rooted to one spot. I felt like an epileptic butterfly with all that trouncing and fluttering in a confused frenzy. Now that I have myself stationary and my facilities about me, I'm still bemused as to what comes next. I have to accept that Ellie was more than an experiment, but now is the time where I turn around and walk away. Right? I can't believe I shot out of her apartment like a hellfire hound on wings. I could just leave now and assume that she'd reject me for the two fingers, one thumb situation. Or I could go back down there and be _sure _that's the case.

At least that way I'll have closure. At least I could have gotten that kiss before she told me told me that, since I can't be an associate professor at Columbia working on the project to fling humans out into space or whatever, she'll be done anyway. I've never been kissed. Seems...germy.

But nice.

It definitely seems nice. Now I've done it. Tuesday had a right to be skeptical. Seriously? What was I thinking? An experiment? Clearly **I** wasn't an experiment to her. That just makes me sad too. It was with a heavy heart and matching heavy steps that I descended the wrought iron escape and peeled her window open. I could see her on the couch, through the bathroom door as it's the bathroom that leads to the fire escape. Her head turned my way, she could hear me. Hell she could probably smell me, and my mood, already.

"Ellie..."

"Donnie?" She echoed back. Though my head dipped down, I could hear her footsteps and that betraying Tuesday right beside her. "Are you alright, honey? I thought you weren't coming back with how quick you jetted on outta here."

The measure of confusion that I felt rivaled the way a child feels the first time they realize that they are on a tiny spec, flying through the universe and how infinitesimally small that is. Or maybe that was just me as a child. Ether way, I'm baffled.

What the shell do I say now?


	7. It's About Time

**::Author's Note::**

Please, a moment for a front end author's note. It's very important. In a discussion with Miss Laughter's Tears a quote was borrowed from her genius in this chapter. Please let us take a moment to give credit where credit is due. Thank you, my friend, for contributing to this little piece. We do hope you enjoy. And we welcome our new readers. We were both surprised and flattered to get such wonderful feedback! Thank you so much for taking the time to read and let us know what you think. It's greatly appreciated. We would love any words you amazing people may have on our newest chapter. As always, thank you for stopping by.

* * *

><p><strong>It's About Time that I Came Clean with You<br>**Chapter 6:  
><span>It's About Time...<span>

As my mind fumbled for something to say verbally, I'm struck by the sudden dawning realization that I knew about this. This...emotion. In theory. I knew about this in **_theory_**. I realize, _now_, that my experiences with Ellie were not only blindingly more than an experiment but my own sick fascination with how long it would take to get here, where this feeling lurks. Maybe this was the test all along, I can't be sure anymore. I guess I just never realized that it would turn into this, from her end. I was hung up on the possible cheek-kiss I missed and reminded that I am _indeed _a boy. Wait - man...hrm, I'm male. Therefore I'm driven by hormones on occasion. It's logic that leads me to this conclusion.

It would be a flat out lie to say I haven't...experimented in the vein of...ahh...well...pleasure. Independently of course. For research. Independent research, as it were. Mikey prefers the term 'waxing the turtle', while Raph likes 'priming the pipes'. Leo has no comment. I'm often convinced he's a eunuch. This is all important because, when faced with Ellie, I'm reminded that she's a beautiful woman and she has in fact been the subject of my research. My..._research_.

To be honest, I'm not sure if she's outwardly beautiful because she is or if it's because I'm attracted to her personality. How I thought this was still a science experiment is beyond me. It was so much easier when she was distant and here, now, she's only as close as a friendly kiss on the cheek. And here I standing, having had the late night urge to wish she was there with me...and I even sometimes pretend like she is. I'm a moron, I should have seen this coming. It would be yet another falsehood to say I'm not entirely disappointed that she only wants a kiss. I secretly wish we I could test the resistance of her bed instead, how her springs stand against excessive force. You know, to make sure it's safe...for her, should she ever decide to jump on it. And have a pillow fight with...Tuesday...in her underwear.

**Illogical **again!

Not to mention dirty! There's a certain measure of guilt I feel for even thinking it. The warmth hit my cheeks before the shame entered my mind. I am...male and it's messing with my mental input. My only defense is that _she_ **did **try to kiss me. If she could get passed the shell, beyond the three fingers and even the boot strap skin there was no way I would subject her to the...churring. Yes...like my lesser kin I, and my brothers, are subject to involuntary vocalizations that the smaller and less mentally aware carapace bound reptiles perform during mating. The thought makes me light headed and I think I might throw up. This is turning into a nightmare again...

"Don, honey, come inside." She prompted and I find myself once more at her mercy. I waddle forward like a scolded dog with my head tucked down and my bottom pulled in, making myself the smallest I possibly can while still standing and moving. Being ashamed for the series of horrible thoughts I had from the fact that I'm face with the idea that she wanted to give me a simple friendly kiss humbled me to the point of discomfort. I wish I hadn't come back.

"I'll make you some cocoa and we can talk...if you want to stay. Ya didn't even get to touch your supper. I saved it for you, ya know. If I know my Donnie I knew he'd be back." The smile on her lips is suddenly alluring and I know she didn't mean it that way, but I'm mistaking every single move she makes because...I _want_ her. I will chase her carrot and I will do so without self control because I'm...damn it - I'm **male**! She's ruined me. I want to leave and I can't. It's worse than the roof as my body is out of my control again and I follow behind her. I wonder at which point she's the one that screams rape. I feel a little like that sex offender-like candle stick from Beauty and the Beast.

I really need to leave. Now!

How does one start the conversation that they are a mutant? Not a mutant bunny or mutant Tuesday or a mutant-anything-cute-and-cuddly, but a mutant turtle? I bet she'd be in love with Tuesday if he were a mutant. That damn dog. He'd probably be handsome and mysterious with a seductive German accent that women couldn't resist. He'd probably be tall too. I scowled at him. At least I'm finally starting to hate him. I'm just jealous...but I can still channel my true envy to a steady loathing for that mangy, mammal. Why couldn't he be a dachshund, if he was going to be German - at least then he'd have an abnormally long body and stubby legs. Hell he might be a dwarf or something if that was the case. But he's not...he's Tuesday the regal protector. At least he's a mammal...and he lives in an apartment...and...

"You do like pot roast right? I make it with barbeque so it's a little bit of Ellie-special. My momma, she had a cooker and owned one of those on the way to the South of the Boarder diners that qualify as a 'greasy spoon' - ya know the sort, don't ya honey?" She stopped to turn back to me. I opened my mouth when I realized, no...I don't know - because I've never been more than a few miles outside the city. There was that one trip to Japan once but even that was with very few site seeing extravaganzas as the Tribunal had us on pretty tight lock down. Of course the number of times I've been off-world or in some other dimension won't count to her. Hell I don't even know what 'South of the Boarder' is. "Oh that's right, you're a New Yorker through and through...have seen grass, never cut it."

Damn her adorable smile.

"Well I learned to cook from her and therefore there's a stick of butter in everything I make. Don't tell her like that little place in China Town. When you meet her."

My eyes bugled. I felt it, like some Pekinese. "Ellie! I can't...I'm not...that won't happen."

"Well why not, honey?" She purposefully stopped and placed the back of her hand on her hip and shoved it out to the side like some overly dramatized Greek statue. She still had her arms though, so that's good.

"Ellie...it's, yeah - it's about time I came clean," I paused, "with you."

It took all of my effort to gather the courage to take her hand. Which was a good thing I guess, as it made my torrid blood go cold in fear as I was focused on bravery over attraction. I could feel my hands shaking in hers. It prompted her other hand to come over my one. The sensation made me go rigid in my spot...she was touching me...again.

This is it - moment of truth.

"I'm not what I seem." She moved closer and gave me a little nod. Tuesday, that jerk, moved in too. He was crowding me. I considered poking him with my bo, maybe he'd move back some.

"Kind and sometimes innocently naive?"

**NAIVE**? Did she _really_ just call me naive? I think she did. I was reminded of how many times I'd been to other dimensions or near death and exactly how **not **naive my life has been. She must have sensed that too, or it could have been the way my hand went limp in hers.

"Don, honey..." she started slowly. "I isn't about whatever you think it's about. Things aren't _ever_ what they seem. I'm fortunate - what everyone else considers a handicap is the best thing I got going for me. It keeps me from being...like everyone else. I get to see the world differently. Yeah, honey, _see _it differently. You gotta have a little faith. So what is it that you don't seem?"

Here it comes. "I'm a turtle." Wow...it sounds even stupider when I just...say it.

I **wait**. She _waits_.

Her hands squeezed around my singular one. I wonder if she's assessing my skin texture or my three fingers. I wondered if she'd scream or maybe laugh. I also wonder which would hurt worse. Her fingertips left my hand and trailed up my arm. I leaned back a little as if her light touch is more dastardly, like a snake slithering up my arm. I know I stopped breathing when her light graze brushed the edge of my plastron and then her palm captured my cheek. **_I_** had the overwhelming urge to scream **at **her, like a scared child who'd seen a ghost.

"Oh honey...I knew that."

There are no words that can possibly supersede that. Rage hit me first, that she let me, **LET ME**, think she didn't know. Furthermore...how did she know? Then it dawned on me, I'm the one that never wanted to talk about her disability. I'm the one that was uncomfortable with it. She's the one that said it looks dark and blurry...never did she say...black. I'm a moron. A stupid..._moron_. I guess I'm not the only one coming clean. I'm not sure if I should be mad or sad or hurt. Or just all three.

That hand on my cheek was burning my skin from the heat and I wished I could come to a conclusion but this science fair project has gone dreadfully wrong and the volcano exploded all over the living room before the big day. Or maybe the dog ate it. I can't be sure - perhaps both. It's a mess, that's all I know. I was still feeling a twinge of aggravation. Until suddenly her lips were on mine.

**ERROR**: The Donatello does not recognize this function. Not responding. Please resend.

Every bit of irritation and sadness, every bit of confusion and terror, was gone.

It _was _nicer than I expected.

And again, she's right. I am naive.

Score one (_more_) for Ellie. Don...still zero.


	8. The Point of Logical Thinking

**It's About Time that I Came Clean with You  
><strong>Chapter 7:  
><span>We Navigated Passed the Point of Logical Thinking<span>

Fantasy is for Mikey or even Raph, sometimes Leo is even able to breech that barrier. Though I'm a dreamer, I wouldn't say I fantasize. I have wild ideas and hopeful aspirations, even crazed tangents that disguise themselves as viable ideas. I know that much; otherwise I wouldn't think of all the do-dads I manage to come up with. I have to think outside the box. However, there's another box outside of that one that I find myself inside of when I step out of the first box. It's just a series of concentric boxes.

If concentric can be used for squares. I think it can in this case. Perhaps I mean nestled. Nestled boxes..._whatever_! The point is that the boxes don't end when you get out of the first one. There's another! And then another! But each gets a little more wild with bigger and neater stuff, filling up all the empty spaces in unprecedented ways. All of it, however, is controlled by science. Science, I think I said this, is cool. And science tells us the material of the box, its capacity to bare weight and its parameters, even of the biggest box. The theoretical final box.

What the shell does science have to say about this feeling in my chest? Or the one in the pit of my stomach? Which box do they fit into it? The sensation where the damn thing feels like it's tied up and put together backwards, like a puzzle poorly finished by a toddler. This can't be normal or healthy. I might just throw up - right in her mouth.

What does _science_have to say about the fantasy, outside of the box? The part where I can't help but suddenly imagine a world unlike this one. Suddenly I'm Don freaking Juan or Fabio like on the front of a dime store romance novel. Bear chested Don (not that I wear clothes), with my nonexistent hair blowing behind me. My lady, of course I've saved her from the dastardly plans of that horrible Tuesday, wrapped around my one bulging leg as she stares up at me - never mind that the real thing can't really stare as she can't see - in sheer adoration. Or lust. I'm not sure which they're trying to portray on those ridiculous pieces of woefully inadequate literature. If it can even be called 'literature' - I might very well be insulting an entire genre of our artistic world if I condone their writers. Naturally I'm wearing pants that are half torn and Ellie's crazy, zig zaggy hair is even more crazy as the wind - trapped in art - fans out further from the blustery weather...or maybe that part is from my undeniable sex appeal.

Um...welcome back to reality Don.

It was **_one _**kiss.

One kiss that was still reeling from. I'm not the talker Mikey is, but I rarely find myself as speechless as I was in that very instance. I don't think I could remember how to speak English.

I stared at her. I wondered what she must be thinking - I wondered what she was thinking this whole time and for how long she'd been trying to prod me for the truth. It took her assuming I would meet her family for it to come out. That thought made my throat close up further. What did that mean? Why would I meet her family? Did I miss something - or was she just trying to get me to say something she needed to hear?

"How..." I breathed, trying to find the strength of character to pull forth my voice. At least so I could formulate a full sentence for her.

I wished I could go back to the part where we're trapped in art looking all sexy and with the utmost chemistry. But as I stare at her, I'm reminded that everything about her makes me irrational. Even being with her right now is illogical.

Her finger pressed to my mouth and a soft 'shhh' resonated in my ears. I obey, like a stranded puppy hoping for a home. I've felt so many things opposite this woman - so many things I couldn't place. We are harshly opposite and yet she had a way of making me feel like our differences aren't enough to even note. She makes me _feel_. I've never thought I lacked in that area, at least until I met Ellie. I wasn't afraid to embrace emotion, I wasn't even afraid to cry. Raph, he's the one who avoids his emotions. I just never knew I could feel like **this**. It's as if someone took the controls and dialed up all the settings on my perspective to the maximum input. The only problem is I'm not too sure how high a frequency I can go before I explode.

"Go lay down." Ellie's words were stern, almost harsh.

At first I was confused, bemused, baffled. I wondered what she was talking about and how I was supposed to abide by her request - her demand. I had opened my mouth to speak when I heard Tuesday's tag jingle against his collar. My eyes trailed over to the dog, my competition - or at least my pretend competition. My absurd head certainly had believed he was. All I caught was a glimpse of his tail flopping back and forth with his swagger as he slinked away and disappeared in the front nook of her apartment. He had a dog bed there that I'd noted on an earlier visit. I'd never seen him in it; in fact, I'd never seen him anywhere but right next to Ellie left calf.

It hit me then. It was as if I was blasted with a canon and the force rendered me immobile.

I **_won_**!

I _succeeded_!

Tuesday was gone and I was left alone with Ellie. She was **mine**! She might have been the one to fend him off for real, but it was **me** that she wanted with her. **_Alone_**.

I gulped. The victory was short lived as concern flooded me. I didn't know what exactly victory meant in this case. I'd wanted it for so long I didn't know what came next. My curious mind always asked why and I always wondered what happened next. I followed so many paths way out of the way simply because I was curious and didn't relent. I was stunned when this was one time where I didn't considered what came next.

I should know and the thinking part of my brain understood the intuitive nature of a physical encounter. There was more to this passion than just words, though not much of that had been spoken. Ellie was a feeler - literally - what more could happen but to feel? The inexperienced part of me overrode any rationale I should assume. I was afraid. I was afraid of the possibility that I was wrong and that she might be getting ready to kick me out. Like she did Tuesday. She had far more sense of intuition than I did and clearly she expected that I was picking up on what was natural.

Her fingers brushed up my arms, leaving little trails of heat in their wake. She passed my biceps and up my shoulders and when she came to my face, she smiled. Her palms cupped my cheeks. I couldn't help but smile back, dumbly. I didn't care that she couldn't see it, I still felt awe-struck by her soft touch. It felt stupid on my face for it's size and how much of my cheeks it engulfed but I couldn't help it. She was prettier with a smile and it was contagious. She noticed it as her fingers traced the outline of my mouth and then she took in every inch of my face with her curious and dexterously nimble fingers. I could tell by the way her face showed her emotion as well, that she was _really_ **seeing **me for the first time.

She wasn't afraid. She wasn't disgusted. She wasn't even alarmed. She was curious and seemed..._happy_. Why shouldn't I be happy too?

Before I knew it, she was kissing me again. The first amateur kiss we'd experienced, as I'd been sloppy - I knew that when the second came - was clumsy, and nothing as compared to this one. I was a fast learner and I rarely made the same mistakes twice. It was part of what came from training to be a ninja and having to learn to be quick to adjust when necessary.

I scooped her up around the waist, pulling her closer to better facilitate our connection. The backs of my legs slammed into the couch when I took a small step back and the next thing I knew she was on me. It was exhilarating and all that fear I'd had from moments before was gone. My victory was intoxicating and I wasn't about to stop it as she helped me find the best places to hold her by guiding my hands while our mouths stayed locked together.

Leo was going to be mad. I knew it - but I had no intention of going home that night, not if Ellie was going to let me stay. The man part of my brain that suddenly flicked on indicated that the green pilot light was a-go and that meant she was good with my being there. Until she gave me reason to think otherwise, and that red light sprang to life, I was going to indulge in this triumph.

Take _that_, Tuesday!

I _loved _Ellie. I understood as all the pieces seemed to fall into place. My body wanted to show her just how much. What she might not understand, yet, was that being that close to me - touching me - was a victory of her own. She'd won a part of me I didn't realize was up for grabs. I'd tell her later, when we were talking again. Words seemed to be less than optional in that moment.

"It isn't about what you think it is Donnie, honey." She broke our kiss. "I've been sittin' on this a long time sweetheart and it's _you_. You make me feel this way, nothin' else much matters huh?" She leaned low by my head and her fingers brushed my bandana, which she'd been a good deal interested in before when she was exploring my face. Her body was perched over me still even if she was leaning low and her words filled me up. I was comfy on her couch, with her sitting over me.

All the irrational, illogical and preposterous things I'd been thinking culminated into a series of reasonable outcomes. I wasn't scared anymore, not yet. Instead, I felt strangely manly and dashing. Her words worked to fill me up - like suddenly I'd borrowed all of Raph's testosterone. Don Juan indeed.

Yet nothing could have prepared me for what she had to say next. I felt a tickle against my face as her lips barely brushing my skin and the words fluttered across the surface of my cheek.

"I love you, Donnie. For _you_."


	9. All that Followed Fell

****It's About Time that I Came Clean with You  
><strong>**Chapter 8:  
><span>All that Followed Fell<span>

"Donnie...?"

I didn't answer the lingering question in Leo's voice as he called after me. I didn't mean to slam my door, but I did. I also didn't mean to ignore Leo, but I did that too. A distant 'what's wrong with him' followed behind the door. It was Mikey, I knew it by the way his voice dragged out in a dumbfounded manner. My shell collided with the door as I dropped back against it. I glanced at the clock on my desk, it wasn't even 9pm. I groaned, for a night I expected to stay in the arms of a woman regardless of the consequences, it sure was early.

It went, well, I'm not sure I have a word for how it went as implying that it 'went' anywhere would be a verb, indicating that _something _happened. I supposed the statement would be better left verbless. It. I could just leave it at 'it' and better explain the night. I groaned and slid down the wall and landed unceremoniously on my backside.

If I was one for swearing I would have let lose every colorful four letter adjective I knew. When I ran out of the regular ones I would have started making some up, yes, I was that frazzled.

"Shell." I mumbled poking at a piece of the automatic under water respirator, sized to no larger than a pack of index cards, which I'd been working on for the last few weeks. After a minute of watching the plastic wobble under my thick digit, I jerked it up and whipped it across the room helplessly. No, it didn't accomplish anything, but it certainly made me feel better for the split second that it whizzed through the air.

I sighed, again.

I feel really stupid right now and my calf still hurts. Sometime after the kisses got really hot and I knew it was going to be something serious we wouldn't want to stop, the first chur came. Now, I've heard them before; Mikey's audible in the dojo from his room. I would call him zealous. Raph is a little more discrete, but there's no stopping it. It's...um natural. Of course I've heard my own churs before. It's something like an uncontrollable moan when things, um, get _good_. Naturally, I've _never_ made this sound around a girl before and it didn't occur to me, I'm not sure - looking back - how that didn't cross my mind, to warn her.

I was ready, my tail had found it's way to life and I knew that soon I'd be exposed to her; not that she could see. But the comfort of that first realization made my instincts kick in and there it was. Thinking back it would have scared me, the deep and loud growl that my more prehistoric brethren cast upon me. She jumped, surprised by it, which made her hit her head on the wall and by that point Tuesday figured Ellie was being attacked.

Shell, she probably was, considering how eager I was.

There's still a burning ache under the lower part of my plastron. Not because I have a craving anymore. _That_ I could handle; but because...well, when unattended I...um...sometimes get myself stuck. That opening my my tail is fairly small, maybe there's something wrong with me. Of course, I thought bitterly, there's no standard model with which to compare myself to and determine if I'm abnormal. Anyway, as I was unattended, the next conclusion is - I got myself stuck. And I did. It still stings. I can feel the heat in my face just thinking about how embarrassing it is that I even consciously let myself think about the horrors of...breeding.

Well, Tuesday got my leg and I was left with the painful reminder of how unsatisfied I would be. I **am**.

I'm not really sure what happened after _that_ dog bit me. I deserved it. I was going to devour his master, I wanted to. The fact that, before that moment, she wanted me to as well was beside the point. I don't think I'll be seeing Ellie again.

Tuesday - twenty billion, Don - negative twenty billion.

I **really** _hate_ that dog.

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><p><strong>::Author's Note::<strong>

A short chapter; but we figured it was sort of fit to be short for the content. We hope you enjoyed this little update. Can we just say...rough night, Don. ^_^


	10. This Could be Love

_**::Author's Note:**_: The infamous Stoic Harlequin front loading author's note. We know it's been quite awhile since we've updated this one. But we figured it was time. We hope you find this half as amusing as we did. The fun part about this story is that the chapters are ideal in short bursts. Don's screen name is borrowed from the new comic. We take no credit for it. Please, enjoy. We'd love to hear, any who are still reading (or newcomers!), what you think. Thank you for checking out the update (or stumbling on this story for the first time).

* * *

><p><strong>It's About Time that I Came Clean with You<br>**Chapter 9:  
><span>This Could be Love<span>

I stared at the screen for a long time. So, he was my friend - sort of. If I could have friends. Online. With a barrier between us. Probably in different states - maybe continents. With a safety net called Ethernet cable. Well, okay, I know only part of that is true since I **do** know where he lives - which is only about 20 blocks away at NYU. That's beside the point.

I wanted to ask - but what does a fellow nerd know about girls? At least Raph's got Casey who has more testosterone than most fully grown gorillas. Even still, I like Casey. At least Adam - his name is Adam (his real name) - had access to...girls.

I pondered what to say to the IM window. We met on a science forum. Sounds like an ideal bromance, for those of us less socially apt individuals. At least I have an excuse, what with the shell and green skin. Adam was just a little overzealous in the less popular subjects. He was sort of a fanboy about quantum physics and gets a little cerebral when I opened any door that could touch on theoretical time travel. I didn't want to tell him - _ever _- that I'd sort of, in my day, done stuff _somewhat_ in the vein of abstract quantum physics.

He'd probably melt, or explode into a puff of bubbles. I can imagine, though I've never heard his real voice, him squealing like a four-year-old girl on her birthday at the thought of _**real** _quantum physics. I get where he's coming from; I'm excitable too in a way my brothers would never understand when it comes to calculus in applicable scenarios.

But I don't need him for the science right now - I need him for the reality side. Imagine that, a mutant turtle asking the human science geek about reality.

**Schrodinger's_Adamizer:**I think someone should euthanize Google plus. Er + ... Google+. Whatever. Google is going to sleep with Amazon and make some super business spawn which will take over the world and capitalism as we know it will end in the US. No, the world! Google could have an affair with Facebook if it wanted to actually make a desirable offspring in the social networking realm.

**duz_machines_84: **Are you really making economic projections (and breeding plans) based on Google+? You're...a physicist, Adam. Stick to what you know.

**Schrodinger's_Adamizer: **Hey! I helped you with your Chemistry problem on the forum when we first met didn't I? Probably your homework too. :P And my punnett squares are the shit! See I know all about the genetic outcome of Google plus (not Google+) Amazon. Google plus Facebook. See, I know more than physics. OH! Astro-physics would be cool. I'd like to go to the

He does this sometimes, presses enter and forgets the rest of what he's talking about. Or, he's fallen asleep at his keyboard...again. Or he's forgotten what he's going to say by distraction.

**Schrodinger's_Adamizer: **PLUTO! It's still a planet in my heart.

Section C this time, he forgot what he was going to say and got distracted. He thinks his screen name is particularly funny. I know he does, that clever 'atomizer'.

**duz_machines_84: **Yeah, me too.

I humor him.

**duz_machines_84: **So...you used to date that girl right?

The pause was too long. I knew it too - not to mention the _'Schrodinger's_Adamizer is typing..._' in gray font disappearing and reappearing indicated that he's thinking about his answer. 'That girl' was the one who trampled his heart and he spent four weeks trying to convince himself, by telling me, that she was horrible for him. We're not a fit, right Don? She wasn't good for me. I should let her go, yeah?

Now it's my turn. I've come for payment on my entertaining him during the rough times. Hopefully he'll humor me in return.

**Schrodinger's_Adamizer: **If by 'that girl' - you mean the Queen Bitch and 'used to date' as in - got screwed over by. Then yes. I used to date that girl. Camille. It's okay, we can say her name again.

**duz_machines_84: **Right, so you have experience...I...met a girl...

**Schrodinger's_Adamizer: **Burn it with fire.

This is going to go great.

**Schrodinger's_Adamizer: **Before it multiplies and spreads. Like the plague. Or Ebola. More like Ebola since that usually takes your genitals if you survive. Just like all girls - you know...like the one you met.

_Sigh_. Plan B...

**duz_machines_84: **Did you read that article in Astronomy magazine about building a wormhole to tether two galaxies?

**Schrodinger's_Adamizer: **YES! Impossible in a practical setting - ya know, outside of Star Trek - but awesome idea!

I'll stick to science with Adam, or try again when I have more energy for vying for at least the 'pity me long enough to offer advice on girls' response. Today is not that day. I'd rather not get into how Ebola is like a relationship. It already feels doomed.


End file.
